


And the Man Wore Blinders  (Prequel)

by taxilady23



Category: Smallville
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-11-23
Updated: 2003-11-23
Packaged: 2017-11-01 05:23:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/352445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taxilady23/pseuds/taxilady23
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is how is all began</p>
            </blockquote>





	And the Man Wore Blinders  (Prequel)

## And the Man Wore Blinders (Prequel)

by Linda C.

[]()

* * *

And the Man Wore Blinders 

And So Could Not See the Truth 

By Linda C. 

Prequel to the Blind Series  
Rating: R (for abuse)  
Authors Note: This is for everyone who wanted to know how it all started. 

Summary: Jonathan can't see the son for the father, until it's almost too late. 

Acknowledgments: Thanks to Serafina for letting me use her Corner of the World, Chapter 12, "Hero's Reward" to describe Lionel's punishment of Lex in my story. 

* * *

"Clark, we're glad you're home but that was a foolish thing to do. You could have been exposed at any time, and with a Luthor watching." Jonathan gave Clark a long look of disapproval, Martha shaking her head at him. They were gathered around the table, trying to wind down after a horrifying day. 

The hostage situation at the plant had deteriorated into a nightmare, Ralph taking Lex in trade for the kids. Lex had freely walked into the plant, knowing he could be killed, just to free the high schoolers trapped inside. Whitney had been injured, the rest frightened out of their wits. And Clark could only sit on his hands and do nothing. 

Nothing until he found out that the plant was going to blow from the methane tanks. And his friend was still inside. What other choice did he have? He went back in. Lex wasn't explosion-proof. 

The pain flooding his body as he pulled Ralph up from the catwalk had weakened him, but he had to get Lex up. He also wasn't splatter-proof and it was a long way down. 'Adrenaline.' And his secret was still safe and Lex was saved yet again. The lies between them grew. And Clark's heart broke again. 

* * *

"That was an unacceptable risk, Lex." Lionel sipped at his snifter of brandy, watching Lex move about, stiff and sore from his injuries. He had an ice pack on the back of his head, the bruise already showing. The paramedics had told him to rest, but he knew his father was waiting for him. And delaying only meant more punishment. He had learned the hard way. A broken collarbone teaches you to move faster when a fist swings your way. 

"But an unavoidable one. You should have told me the truth about Level Three and Mr. Jenkins. This could have all been avoided if you hadn't lied." Lex poured out a scotch, neat, needing the sharp cutting liquor to clear his throat. Lionel moved to the pool table, picking up a cue stick. Lex never saw it coming, the first blow bringing him to his knees, glass shattering on the stone of the fireplace. It cut into his knees when he fell, covering his head as the stick raised and fell, again, and again...and again. Then his father was dragging him by the arm, almost pulling it out of its socket. 

"You really shouldn't call your father a liar, Lex. It's not seemly." He threw Lex down on the rug, the pain in his back almost immobilizing him. Lionel took his suit coat off, a sure sign this would a long and painful lesson. Lex could only close his eyes as the fist descended toward his face. He finally passed out after Lionel had torn his pants off, spreading his legs and ramming home. He could feel the blood running down his legs, his father's grunts and moans filling his ears. "Never think you can get away without your punishment, young man, Daddy always knows when you've been bad." 

* * *

God, it hurt. His back was on fire, ten long stripes of bruises lay across it, a pattern of pain his father likened to modern art on at least two separate occasions. He dragged himself up on the couch, naked and bloody, head pounding, the additional blows from his father's fists just adding to Ralph's. His shoulder was only wrenched, not popped out, and he rotated his arm, feeling the muscles flex and bend properly. His clothes were in shreds, Lionel loving to rip them off of his son, leaving him naked and defenseless like a child. A child...that was a joke. Lionel had been doing this since Lex was fourteen, every time he was in trouble at school, or getting caught selling drugs, this was his punishment for being a 'spoiled little boy'. Daddy had to make sure he knew he was a bad boy and that he cared enough to mete out punishment. Like other kids had their fathers rape them to make a point. He had told once and all it got him was a stay in a psych ward for a week. At least the drugs were good. And he had managed to steal over half the downers in the medicine cabinet before he was discharged to his father's loving care. Bastard, he hated the fucker. 

Crawling up the stairs, he made it to his bedroom, finding the pills in his drawer. Taking three with brandy, he dressed in black wool pants and a light purple sweater. He had quit bleeding, his ass still oozing his father's seed. He washed as best he could, but every movement hurt, eyes wanting to burst from their sockets. He looked like shit, a corpse walking. What was that line? Oh, yeah, 'dead man walking' from the Green Mile. He and Clark had watched that movie three times, popcorn between them, lights dim and comfortable. He always liked when Clark came over, he was such a peaceful person. And he liked Lex for Lex, not Luthor. 

He looked at his wrist, the bruises ringing it from Clark's strong grip. He had pulled Ralph up, then reached back for Lex, knowing the catwalk could collapse under them both at any second. He had pushed Lex into the elevator, making sure he was safe first. And he had been injured himself, or at least sick. His pallor had alarmed Lex, Clark was never sick. 

'How did you do that?' he remembered asking. 'Adrenaline' was the reply. Another lie, but Lex wouldn't push this time. Not this time, not when he had to make sure Clark knew the truth. And then he knew where he had to go. Clark would protect him, take care of him. Now where were his keys? 

* * *

The Kents were in the living room, Clark sitting at the coffee table, finishing up some homework, Martha knitting and Jonathan reading the paper. They were trying to get back to normal after the long day and needed a calming down period. Clark raised his head sharply. "I hear the Porsche." He knew all of Lex's car by ear, each engine having its own unique sound. And this didn't sound right. The shifting was erratic, the engine revving wrong. They heard the crunch of gravel and then the sound of their fence being hit. 

"What the hell? What's wrong with the boy? Doesn't he know it's almost eleven. It's too late to come over here and he must be drunk to hit our fence. See what comes from being friends with a Luthor?" Jonathan moved toward the door, Clark and Martha behind him. Lex had gotten out of the car, door hanging open behind him. No coat, even though it was cold at this time of night. He was staggering up the steps, the smell of alcohol coming off of him in waves. 

"He's drunk. Grab him before he falls and sues us. Look at the fence. He'll pay for that. He likes to spread his money around so much. Clark, get him..." He watched as Clark scooped Lex up in his arms and carried him in, lying him down on the couch. 

"Sorry, Clark...I didn't mean to hit your fence. My arm hurts and I couldn't shift right. My poor car, your poor fence...nothing works anymore." Martha turned on the overhead light, all of them making sounds of horror when they saw the condition Lex was in. A black eye, a swollen jaw, the dark bruising around his throat, and the large lump on the back of his head, turning black and blue. 

"Oh no, not again! Lex, look at me. How many pills did you take?" Clark kneeled down by the couch, hand brushing lightly against the clammy forehead. His poor friend, he should have known that this was going to happen when Lionel hadn't left town right away. He should have gone to the castle, protected him. 

"Just three, washed them down with brandy. Thought I could drive, guess I was wrong. I used to be able to drive when I was high. Must be getting older, huh? Just let me rest a minute, I'll be fine. Daddy's gone." His eyes flickered, seeing Clark's face close to his, large blunt fingers on his head. The look on his face, knowing he was feeling guilty for not saving him from this again. "Don't look like that. I'll heal up. I have to go to work tomorrow, Daddy's orders. And I don't want punished again...not again. My head hurts." 

Jonathan squatted down by Clark, looking over the battered boy on their couch. "What did he mean, Daddy's gone? Did Lionel do this to him? Why?" 

"Punishment. For going into the plant, exchanging himself for us. He disobeyed orders and he was punished. This isn't the first time, Dad. Lionel beats Lex all the time. I've patched him up many a time. I've stopped some too; Lionel doesn't like an audience, at least not one that cares. He'll sleep off the pills. I'll get him cleaned up a little and put some antibiotic cream on the cuts. Ice the bruises and hope he doesn't have another concussion. I'll stay up with him. I can get by with just a little sleep." He took Lex's shoes off and socks, then reached for the edge of his sweater. 

"Let me help, Clark. Jonathan, get a bowl of warm water, no soap, and a very soft facecloth and towel. We can dress him in some of our old flannel pajamas, Clark, and get him to bed in the guestroom. Now help me lift his arms." 

Lex felt his body moving, the stiffness of his arms and shoulders screaming out in pain as they were shifted to pull his sweater off. A soft voice like his mother's was above him. 'No, she can't see me.' He struggled, eyes finally cracking open. It was Martha, her green eyes dark with concern, for him. 

"Don't! Clark, not your mother. She can't see me like...this. Not right for her to see what he did to me." He clutched at Clark's hand, eyes damp with tears. God, he hoped his friend understood. No one should see this, the pathetic little freak that couldn't even stop his own father from raping him. And especially not Martha, kind soul who liked him, just a little. So like Lillian in her faith in people. Even Luthors. 

"Mom, let me. I'm used to this. I'll get him undressed and washed down. He can stay in my room and I'll sit on the floor and watch over him. That's why I had to stay at the castle that one night I called you and said I had fallen asleep. He was so hurt, so desperate for someone to protect him. Lex, don't worry. Mom'll be careful and I won't let her see. Is that okay?" 

Good, he understood. He knew he would, such a good boy, his friend, he loved him so much. God, why weren't the pills working? He should have been knocked out by now. He drifted off, never knowing how relieved Clark was that the drugs had taken effect. Now he could be cleaned up without worrying about waking him up. He would sleep for hours. 

Jonathan had stood by, listening to his boy and Lex talk. No one deserved a beating like this, let alone a father doing it to a son. Jonathan had had enough beatings from Hiram growing up, but he knew he had been a handful, rebellious and headstrong, the star quarterback in high school, 'too big for his britches', as his dad used to say as the belt came swinging down to crack on bare flesh. But when he got bigger than his dad, and fought back, putting him on the ground for a change, they had stopped. 'Finally grew up enough, eh?' his father had said, clapping him on the back. But it still rankled that his own father had beaten him into submission for so many years. He had never laid a hand on Clark, never wanted that shame on his son's face. Not that his hand would have survived the spanking, but words seemed to work better on Clark. He and Martha could always guilt him into doing something they wanted. 

"You mean to tell me this happens to Lex all the time? Why didn't you say something? Lionel should be put away, assault and battery the least of his charges." Clark looked up at his father, seeing the concern in his eyes. Jon handed the basin and cloth to Martha, laying the towel within her reach on the couch. 

"Because he made me promise. He's so ashamed that he isn't strong enough to fight back. But Lionel doesn't fight fair, Dad. He ambushes Lex from behind, or drugs his food to make him weak enough to...hurt. It's been going on since Lex was in prep school. He just fixes himself up and goes on with his life. It's become a part of him, another side of his life he can't avoid. But he has me now to help him." 

"And me, son. He has me too." Martha whispered, seeing only the little boy who was hurt on her couch, not the business man who ran the plant, and who drove fancy foreign sports cars her son loved, but just a child who wanted his father's approval and never got it. And she resolved to take him under her wing, like the mother he had lost at so young an age. Her 'other son' now, and God help Lionel if he ever hurt him again like this. 

Jonathan moved to help, knowing that this boy needed a family now more than ever. His stupid hatred of the father had driven Lex to hide this pain, this abuse from them. He was Clark's friend, who offered help, and money because that was all he knew. Not love, or caring, or affection. Just pain and lies. Lies. 

Clark had folded the sweater, putting it on the back of the couch. Unzipping the black trousers, he looked up, cheeks red. Lex was naked underneath, which only meant one thing. He put the small blanket throw over Lex's groin as Martha pulled off the pants, setting them aside. Her face was red, but she had seen naked boys before, hadn't she? She flipped the throw off, a gasp coming from her. The smooth skin was mottled with bruises, a footprint evident on the hairless skin, the pattern of the sole clearly marked. The slim sex was red and sore, nail cuts still bloody, beads of blood hardening in the air as they watched. 

Jonathan sank to his knees. What kind of monster did this to their own child? How had Lex been able to stand this kind of punishment year after year and not broken? And Lex wasn't broken. He was a strong young man, brave as he had proven today. Knowing he could have died and going in anyway. Or maybe he didn't care if Ralph killed him. He wouldn't have to suffer any more. Jonathan's heart clenched in his chest...and knew he could never look at Lex the same again. 

Martha washed the cool body, the water fast becoming red, the fresh cuts opening up again. Lex had obviously cleaned himself up but he had been too weak to get it all. She handed the basin to Jonathan and moved to help Clark turn Lex over. The basin dropped to the floor as they saw the damage on Lex's back. 

"Modern art design today. Lionel likes to makes patterns on Lex, like a canvas for his work. Last month it was burns and brands, like a Western portrait. See the marks, they're fading out. But he'll put more on someday, renew the ownership. Dad, get more water. Go, please!" Jonathan hurried out, filling up the basin with fresh water and rushing back. Martha had been putting cream on the marks around Lex's neck, then had moved onto his head. 

Washing off the bruised back, she recoiled as she reached his thighs. Looking up at Clark, she saw his nod. Spreading them carefully, she saw the dried blood on the inside of his legs, and on his ass cheeks. "Let me do it, Mom. I'll know if he needs packed or not." They watched him probe gently, the only response from Lex a little groan, quickly stopped as he settled back into sleep. "Just a little tearing. It just needs cleaned and some cream. He's been torn so bad before I had to call that weird doctor he uses, some drugged out guy from Metropolis. He stitched him up and gave him some pills so he could go to the bathroom easier. That was the night I stayed. He was in so much pain. And he was embarrassed that I had seen the blood and the tearing. He's just lucky Lionel used his prick this time, and not the pool cue like he did that day. It does a lot more damage." He didn't even hesitate over the word, Martha and Jonathan being too shocked over Lex's condition to even notice he said it. 

When Lex was finally clean and dried, cream on all his visible cuts and scrapes, Martha moved aside to let Clark dress him in the soft pj's. His old ones from when he was twelve, but the perfect size for Lex. Jonathan took the water to the sink, dumping it out, watching the bloody liquid swirl down the drain. Lex's lifeblood, washing away. He could have killed Lionel for this. He needed to see what it felt like to hurt. 

Clark carried Lex upstairs, putting him to bed and sitting on the floor by his side. He was on guard, no one would get by him. Lex was safe, at least for tonight. 

* * *

Lex was sitting on the sofa, pillow behind his back, drinking some of Martha's delicious coffee and eating the brownies she had baked just for him. Clark close to him on the floor, arm on Lex's knee, just gazing up at him. 

His color had been better in the morning, the pills letting him sleep all night, not waking until Clark had to get ready for school. He turned over, seeing the green eyes staring at him, then the grin as he smiled a little. He hurt, but the worst was over. "Help me up, I gotta pee." Not the most polite thing to say in the morning, but hey, kicks to the kidneys did that to a person. Clark helped him down the hall into the bathroom, supporting him while he relieved his full bladder. Blood filled the toilet bowl, then the stream ran clear. He looked at the cuts on his cock, gingerly putting himself back in the pajama flap. 

He had washed his hands, then looked in the mirror. God, he was beautiful...black eye, swollen lip, two or three cuts from Father's signet ring on his cheeks. And his throat was a mass of bruises, dark blue, shading to purple. And what the hell did he have on? Teddy bear flannel pajamas? He had turned to Clark, raising an eyebrow. "Teddy bears? You're so dead, Clark Jerome Kent." And being carried downstairs to breakfast still wearing the ridiculous things hadn't helped his mood any. But at least Clark had laughed, his worried face lighting up as Lex joked. 

He had slept most of the day away, Martha waking him for tea and toast about 10, then Jonathan had helped him to the bathroom again. He flushed as he turned toward the toilet, trying to hide himself. He started as Jon stood behind him, arm around his waist, holding him close for support. "Don't. Don't ever be ashamed of what happened to you. He's a monster and you didn't deserve this. Any of it, before or now." 

Around 4 he woke up and asked Martha about his clothes. She handed them to him, pants clean and pressed, his sweater smelling like Clark, the fragrance of the softener delicate and light. Along with a pair of briefs, also a hand-me-down of Clark's youth. "No commando in this house, young man. You've stopped bleeding...Clark said you weren't torn badly...down there." She brushed a quick kiss on his cheek, handing him the clothes and walking away, but not before he saw a tear run down her face. He went into the downstairs bath to change, folding the teddy bear pj's with a little smile. He slowly walked back into living room, easing down on the sofa. 

Then the whirlwind that was Clark burst through the door, book bag landing with a thump and he came running into the living room, looking for Lex. The grin spread over his face when he saw him up, looking better, the television on CNN, the stock ticker running along the bottom. Always the businessman, always watching the bottom dollar, that was his Lex. 'His Lex.' 

"Hi, looking good. That shade matches the bruises perfectly. Little contrast with the black but overall I give you about an eight." He raised his hands in defense as Martha swatted at him. Lex laughed, holding his side a little. Ribs were sore but not broken, a blessing. 

"Don't hit him. We always do that. Compare the colors, then rate my appearance on a scale of 1 to 10, the highest score being for the ability to match my clothes to the bruises. In March, it was a 10 since my shirt matched the red of my skin when he burned me. Don't look like that, Martha, it's joke or cry. I'd much rather laugh about it. Crying hurts the ribs." 

Clark ran up and changed clothes, then went out for the afternoon chores, cows needing fed, the barn swept out, bales of hay needing moved. He finished at superspeed, knowing that Lex was sitting with his Mom, out of sight of the barn. Jonathan drove the tractor into the back barn, the engine missing again. At least tomorrow was Saturday and he could help him fix it. They moved together, walking back into the house, Jonathan's arm over Clark's shoulder. 

"You know, Dad, I don't ever think that Lex has had this. The only time his father touches him is to hurt. Even that hug at the plant was fake. Lex was so stiff, so scared and in pain. I think he knew what he was in for when he went home. I wish I had known Lionel was staying and I would have brought him home with us to hide out 'til he left. Could he stay a few days?" 

Jonathan opened the door, ushering Clark in. He could hear Martha and Lex talking, voices low. "As long as he wants, at least until your mother is satisfied he's healed up enough. 'No son of mine' is going home until he's ready. Guess you have a big brother now." Clark grinned, knowing that's how Lex felt about him already. But the looks he got sometimes contained so much heat, he knew it went deeper somehow. And it scared him a little, knowing he wanted more but not sure what it was he yearned for. Not sex, not with anyone yet. He had control over his body, but not his emotions. He could hurt someone if he lost it, grip too hard, move too fast, break bones. He couldn't risk that happening. Especially not to Lex, who had suffered enough pain and torment at his father's hands. 

Jonathan went into the living room, clapping Lex on the shoulder, careful not to press too hard. "Glad to see you're up and about, son. And you're not going home until Martha says so. We have a computer here you can use and Clark can go get you some clothes. And underwear." Lex looked startled, surprise at Jon's tone of welcome and caring. He pressed his hand on Jon's, thanking him with his eyes, too emotional to trust himself to speak. 

What had he seen in this boy that had made him hate him so much? He was just a scared kid, like Clark sometimes, unsure of himself and so thankful for just a few kind words. He was nothing like his father, he could see that now. He decided then and there to take off the blinders and see Lex for himself, as Clark saw him, a friend and a young man in need of love and attention. 

He and Clark washed up, then sat down to dinner, Clark helping Lex to the table. The meal was delicious, sweet potatoes, mashed, a tender pot roast, and peach pie, still warm, with vanilla ice cream. He was stuffed but happy. He sat on Jon's right, across from Clark. He was family today and it felt good. He helped clean up a little then Clark led him to the couch. He had fallen asleep a little bit and now here he was, drinking coffee and eating brownies. He would be getting fat if he kept this up. Clark's arm on his knee felt good, anchoring him, its weight a comfort. Martha and Jonathan sat across from them, reading. It was a cozy evening, fireplace going, soft music instead of the television. He was getting sleepy. 

"Someone's here." Clark raised his head, listening to the powerful engine purr to a stop. Two doors slammed. He exchanged a look with Jonathan, who quickly moved to the door, gazing out. 

"It's Lionel. Lex, do you want to go upstairs? I don't want him upsetting you." Jonathan came over to Lex, reaching out his hand, ready to help him get up and move. 

"No, I won't show him I'm afraid of him. I won't back down and run. Let him in, Mr. Kent." The knock sounded, then Lionel strode in, not waiting for an invitation. 

"Get up, Lex, and get in the car. Henderson can come back later for your Porsche. I don't want you imposing on the Kents any longer than necessary. You've bound to have disturbed their farm routine." Said with a sneer, a hand waving negligently in the air. He tried to push Jonathan, finding him as immovable as a brick wall. 

"Get out of my house, Luthor. You're not taking Lex anywhere. After what you did to him, you should be in jail...or dead. Lex, sit! And don't you dare move." Clark stood in front of Lex, blocking Lionel's view of his battered son. He reached behind him, pushing Lex back down on the couch. 

Lex returned the favor by kicking his leg. "Move, Clark, I'm not hiding behind you. I'm not a child." He moved around Clark's solid presence, keeping close enough to feel the heat radiating off his body. It made him more confident to face his father, knowing Clark had his back. 

"I've decided to stay here for a few days, Dad. The Kents have been kind enough to offer their hospitality in the face of my injuries. They're concerned for me. That's why family does, takes care of their own. But you wouldn't know anything about that, would you Dad?" He moved closer to Lionel, his legs shaking, his back spasming under the sweater, scabs pulling tight. 

"Fine, but I expect you back at work on Monday. I'm sure the plant can run without you for the weekend. The inspectors have to give their approval for reopening it after a thorough check. I look forward to your reports on the damage." He turned his back, long black coat flaring behind him, not even saying goodbye to his son. 

Jonathan followed him out, door slamming behind him. He had seen the look of dread and fear on Lex's face, the animal instinct to flee from harm. But he had stayed and stood up to his father. It was only right that Jonathan did the same. 

"Listen here, you sick bastard. You ever touch Lex that way again, I will personally make you pay for it. What kind of animal rapes their own child? And from what I heard last night, it's not the first time you've done it. Getting off on pain, I can understand that, perverted as it is, but to beat your own flesh and blood, then rip him apart and leave him bleeding on the floor. You deserve the worst kind of Hell, Luthor. Lillian must be turning in her grave, knowing what you've been doing to her son. You sick fuck." 

Lionel turned, hand on the open door, his bodyguard on the alert. Jonathan knew better than to touch Lionel, but he wanted to grab him, pound his head into the ground, then kick him where he had kicked Lex. And that would have been too good for him. 

"You seem to forget yourself, Jonathan. You really shouldn't threaten a man who holds your son's little adoption secret in his hands. What I do to my son is my business, not yours, not Martha's, nor your son's. Lex can handle himself; he didn't need to run to you for help. That only shows his weakness." 

Jonathan grabbed the door, glaring at the bodyguard until he backed down. He looked sick himself, hearing what Jonathan had said about Lionel's treatment of his own son. 

"I don't think that even your money would help you beat child abuse. And that's what this is. You started raping him when he was only fourteen. And I don't think any court in the country would let you get away with that. And I plan on taking pictures of him today. Clark's been there to clean up after you before, taking care of Lex, patching him up. And his own doctor has seen his injuries. So don't think you can get away with this forever. My adopting Clark from an unwed mother without the proper papers is mild compared to this. In fact, your involvement and then the blackmail after to get the Rosses' to sell their corn factory to LuthorCorp might even mitigate any charges that would be filed against me. I may be a farmer, but I'm not stupid, Luthor, not by a long shot. Now get your sorry ass off my property!" 

He watched as the long black limo pulled away. His story of the unwed mother had been Martha's idea, if anyone ever had the nerve to ask about Clark's parentage. Even Lionel thought they had bought him from some woman in Metropolis. Not exactly legal, but not unheard of nowadays. His threats wouldn't hold up in court, and Clark would still be theirs. Maybe a fine, and some community service, nothing more. And Lex would help protect them. That's how he was, and Jonathan finally saw it. 

When he turned, Lex was standing on the porch, Clark's arms around him, holding him up. Martha had her hand on his shoulder, lightly patting him. He moved up the steps, pulling him away from Clark. "Come here. Here's what a real father does to his son." And he hugged him, then pressed a kiss on his forehead, running his hand over his back. "He loves him, accepts him for who he is, and takes care of him." Lex leaned back, tears standing in his eyes. He was finally home. With people who loved him. 

And his heart began to heal. 

End 


End file.
